Museum of Curiosities and Danger
by Tanba Josav
Summary: If the Doctor asks you where you want to go, never say 'Surprise me' He almost always has an ulterior motive and besides museums at night are seriously creepy. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Museum of Curiosities and Danger**

It was the tiny flicker of light in the darkened room that first attracted Clara's attention. She caught a brief flash of bluish-green from the corner of her eye. Looking about she realised that the Doctor had wandered off, again. Honestly it was like herding cats with that man sometimes; six year olds had better sense than he did.

'Doctor?' she called out, her voice echoing slightly. She flashed her torch about, hoping to catch a glimpse of his tall, thin figure but no luck. All she could see were small displays of alien artefacts scattered about the room. She had no idea what they were; they could have been a display of domestic toasters for all she knew, or ray guns. That was the thing about alien stuff, you never knew what they were until you saw someone using them. 'Where did he go?'

There again, that little flicker, it was more pinkish-blue now. Clara looked about for the Doctor again, biting her lower lip. Flicker, flick, it had changed yet again to a yellow-orange. Clara made up her mind, two could play at this game, if the Doctor thought he could just wander off without so much as a warning then so could she. Grinning at the thought of what she might find in the next room Clara walked around the corner.

The next thing she remembered was being rudely shoved to one side.

'Clara!'

'Ow!' Clara rubbed at her arm, where she was fairly certain she would find a big bruise in the morning. 'Why'd you do that for?'

'Why?' the Doctor stood in front of her with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. 'Oh don't mind me I was just saving your stupid life.'

'From what?' Clara caught a glimpse of yellow-green light from over the Doctor's shoulder and tried to step around him.

The Doctor matched her movement, keeping himself between Clara and the light. 'From that.'

It was Clara's turn to cross her arms. 'And what's that when its home then?'

'It's not at home and you should consider yourself lucky, because that,' the Doctor jerked a thumb over his shoulder, never for a minute taking his eyes off Clara, 'is a Begustrian Light Catcher, very rare, very dangerous.'

Clara lifted herself up on her tiptoes, hoping to catch a sight of this thing. 'Why's it so dangerous?'

The Doctor frowned at Clara's actions. 'Think Venus Flytrap only it eats people instead of bugs.'

Clara slowly lowered herself back on her heels. 'Oh,' her eyes widened at the thought. 'No, wait a minute how can that possibly work, I'm not a bug; I'm not just going to walk up to a –' she gestured towards the Doctor.'

'Begustrian Light Catcher,' he answered for her. 'Except that you did.'

Clara frowned, 'Meaning?'

'How long do you think you were standing there looking at the pretty lights before I came along?'

Clara shrugged, 'I dunno, a few seconds.'

'Try at least twenty minutes, any longer and you'd be getting your insides sucked out like a milkshake right about now.'

Clara's laugh was a little strained. 'That's not possible.'

'No?' the Doctor snorted, 'Light Catchers, they're aptly named because they catch their prey using light. A form of hypnotism it projects directly into the brain, stuns its prey and then they lure it in close enough to snatch it. Don't believe me?' The Doctor turned to face the Catcher, grabbing Clara by the arm as he did so and pulling her forwards to stand beside him.

The light was dazzling, it flickered quickly from one colour to the next, Clara sighed at the sight but it was suddenly partially blocked by the Doctor's hand, his fingers spread in front of her face to dull the effect.

'Now,' he explained to her, 'Watch.'

The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He quickly tossed it towards the dark shapeless mass that was all Clara could see of the Begustrian Light Catcher hiding behind it's bright light. Thick dark tentacles shot out and snatched at the object the Doctor had thrown. Coils looped over the bundle and quickly drew it back into the Catcher's centre. The light that had captured Clara's attention suddenly went dark.

The Doctor leaned over the spoke into Clara's ear. 'You're welcome and you owe me lunch.'

Clara breathed out slowly as she realised what might have happened if the Doctor hadn't come along when he did. She frowned, 'Hang about, you weren't affected. You were staring at the lights too.'

The Doctor tapped the side of his head. 'Superior intellect, flashing lights don't impress me.' He began walking away from the Begustrian Light Catcher deeper into the museum.

One last glance over at the now dormant plant and Clara hurried after the Doctor. 'Did the Catcher thing invade the museum or something, is that why we're here, to stop it?'

'Of course not you wanted to visit a museum, remember?' the Doctor said. 'And besides it's one of the exhibits.'

'What?' Clara stopped walking in the middle of the room. 'No seriously, what?'

The Doctor realising that Clara wasn't following him turned around and walked back to her. 'You wanted to visit a museum and,' he raised one hand, fingers pointing towards the ceiling, 'you wanted to see it after it was closed, something about not wanting to stand around in queues.'

'I might have mentioned it once, months ago and I was referring to seeing the Mona Lisa at the Louvre.' Clara glanced at all the objects scattered around the room. She found herself wondering what else might suddenly spring to life. 'Not some people-eating plant.'

'Ah the Mona Lisa,' the Doctor smiled, 'she had magnificent eyebrows, almost as good as mine.' He gestured towards his face. 'No idea why Leonardo refused to paint them. Lovely fellow Leo, smart for a human,' the Doctor leaned forward, lowering his voice. 'I think he might have fancied me.'

'You thing everyone fancies you,' Clara said, sighing.

'Well,' the Doctor flicked his jacket open, flashing the red lining as he spun on the spot. 'Can you blame them?'

'Don't change the subject, how can that plant be an exhibit, it's not exactly safe.'

'Clara,' the Doctor took two steps back and threw his arms out to encompass the whole room. 'It's the Museum of Curiosities and _Danger_. Don't act so surprised, it's in the name.'

'Well, why isn't it confined or something?'

The Doctor dropped his hands to his side. 'Oh, you like that kind of museum do you? A place for everything and everything behind glass. Signs everywhere saying "Don't Touch" "Don't Run" 'Use Inside Voices Only",' the Doctor snorted dismissively. 'Boring!'

'At least is would be safe then. You can't exactly take a school field trip to a place like this.'

The Doctor shrugged, 'Why not?'

'You're seriously not asking me that question.'

'Evolution in action, survival of the smartest.' The Doctor began walking away. 'Admit it,' he turned his head to address Clara who had followed him; 'there have to be a few students you wouldn't mind letting loose in a place like this. You could raise the entire school's IQ in just one trip.'

Clara smiled slightly as the faces of a few of her more annoying students flickered through her mind before she cleared her throat and tried to look serious.

'Aha!' The Doctor caught Clara's brief smile. 'I knew it.'

'You're incorrigible.'

The Doctor nodded. 'It's one of my better qualities.'

Clara shook her head. 'No its not, now why are we here exactly?'

'You wanted to see a museum remember?'

'I wanted to see the Mona Lisa.' Clara corrected.

The Doctor stopped walking and turned to Clara. 'Fine, I'll take you to see the real thing, in the flesh. You can stare at her all day if you want but don't be surprised if she slaps you. That woman has quite the temper.'

'Somebody's going to get slapped and it's not me.' Clara snapped back at him.

The Doctor grinned. 'Oh you'll get along famously.'

'So why this museum?'

'Hmm,' the Doctor moved away from Clara and began walking into the next room. 'I wonder what's through here.'

'So getting a slapping.' Clara muttered.

'Clara,' the Doctor called out from the next room. 'You wanted to see some portraits?'

She found the Doctor standing in the middle of a large gallery, hands on his hips. All along the walls was portrait after portrait, each hung under their own individual light. No need for her torch here. Some were elaborately constructed; others seemed to be just pencil sketches. There were humans and aliens and even what seemed to be some amorphous blob. Each and every portrait seemed to be staring down at Clara.

'You know how everyone says that the eyes follow you about the room?' the Doctor asked as Clara stopped beside him.

'Yeah, always found that a bit creepy.' Clara answered as she rubbed at her bare arms where goose bumps were beginning to form.

'Oh, then you're going to love this.' The Doctor stretched out one hand and gestured to the paintings on the walls. 'Welcome to the Gallery of the Spirit Painters.'

'Spirit Painters?'

'Passing fad that lasted for a couple of decades in the late 29th Century.' The Doctor nodded towards the nearest painting. 'Take a closer look.'

'Alright,' Clara looked from the Doctor to the paintings. 'Why not?'

'Spirit Painters alleged that they could capture a part of your soul and incorporate it into the painting.' The Doctor explained as Clara walked over for a closer look. 'The claim was by adding your spirit it made the painting come alive. It was promoted as a form of immortality.'

'Just looks like a painting to me.' Clara said, coming to a stop in front of the portrait of a reptilian alien. She frowned and crossed her arms, rising on her toes to get a closer look. Clara suddenly stepped backwards with a gasp.

'See something interesting?' The Doctor asked.

'It looked at me.' Clara whispered. She leaned to her right and watched in shock as the alien turned it's head to follow her.

'Try the next one.'

Clara looked sideways and realised that the bright red human in the next painting was also staring right at her. She moved over to the painting and sure enough both the gaze of the alien and human tracked her every movement. Clara hurriedly walked backwards, never taking her eyes off the paintings, until she was standing next to the Doctor again.

'They're all doing that.' The Doctor said, quietly. 'Every one of them is looking at us.' He shoved his hands into his pockets. 'Go view a Spirit Painters gallery and the paintings will look back at you.'

'That's horrible.' Clara rubbed her arms hard. 'Are they alive?'

The Doctor shrugged. 'No one is sure; they only know that it's not just the _eyes_ that really follow you.'

'And the people who posed for the portraits,' Clara looked up at the Doctor, 'what about them?'

'They seemed normal enough, acted like they always had. But after a while they began to complain that the paintings were talking to them, judging them. So most of them took the paintings down off their walls and hid them away.'

'Gives me the creeps.'

The Doctor leaned down and whispered to Clara. 'Me too,' standing straight he continued in a normal pitch. 'Legend says that one person destroyed their portrait and later mysteriously died. After that no one wanted to sit for the Spirit Painters anymore and the fad just stopped.'

'How did the paintings end up here?'

'No one dared destroy their portraits in case the rumours were true, even after the original portrait sitters died of natural causes their descendents didn't want a thing to do with the paintings in case there really were alive. There's nothing like wasting the family fortune while great-aunty Greta stares disapprovingly down at you from the wall.' The Doctor gestured about the room. 'So they ended up here and in a few other places, sitting for eternity on a wall. Immortality after all.'

'Right,' Clara gave an exaggerated shiver, 'and I'm never going to look at a painting in the same way again. Let's get out of here.'

'Good idea.' The Doctor gestured towards a doorway at the other end of the hall. 'After you.'

'Thanks heaps.' Clara hurried towards the doorway keeping her eyes averted from the portraits the entire time.

'I love a good museum, don't you?' the Doctor asked as they walked past some sculptures that made Clara's eyes water.

It reminded Clara of the works of Escher, those weird drawings that seemed so impossible they used to make her head hurt as a kid trying to work them out, only instead of paintings they were made out of some sort of pale greenish stone, twisting and turning in on themselves – some even seemed to disappear into the walls only to return metres away from the original sculpture.

'You know you still haven't told me why we're here.' Clara said.

'Have you got pudding between your ears, I told you.' The Doctor threw his arms out wide and gestured about. 'To see a museum!'

'Yes, but why this one?'

'Did I mention it's called The Museum of Curiosities and Danger, why not this one?'

'Oh for –' Clara stopped walking, 'I'm not moving until I get a straight answer.'

'Oh really?' the Doctor's eyebrows rose at Clara's words. 'Then you might be waiting a while.'

'I mean it.' Clara stated as she watched the Doctor walk away from her. 'Not moving an inch.'

'Have fun then.' The Doctor wiggled his long fingers over one shoulder as he walked out the room. 'Try to avoid getting eaten.'

'You can't just leave me here!' Clara yelled after him, fighting an urge to stomp one foot. 'I can't believe he just left.' She grumbled as he disappeared around a corner.

Clara looked about at the sculptures. Drumming her fingers on her jeans she considered her options. Stay here and wait for the Doctor to come back, which let's face it he probably wasn't going to do. In fact she wouldn't put it past him to forget she was even here and leave without her. Option two was to run after him like a good little girl and pretend everything was fine, Clara snorted at that idea. Which left option three, go off and do her own thing, find out whatever it was the Doctor was here for, because Clara was convinced he had come here for some reason, and beat the Doctor at his own game. Clara grinned at that idea, option three it was then. She walked over to the door leading out of the sculpture room and saw there were two corridors to choose from; now which one had the Doctor taken? It was no point venturing off only to accidentally run into him in the next room.

'I'm still not moving.' She shouted loudly.

'Fine by me.' Came back a faint reply from her left.

Clara smiled. 'Gotcha,' she muttered, flicking on her torch as she began walking down the other corridor.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor was standing in front of a funfair mirror. Tilting his head to one side he watched his reflection do the same. Unbuttoning his jacket and holding it out slightly the Doctor slowly began turning on the spot, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the mirror. When he couldn't turn his head any further over his left shoulder without giving himself a seriously sore neck the Doctor whipped his head around and continued to complete the turn. So that's what the back of his head looked like. The reflection in the mirror showed the viewer from behind, a perspective the Doctor rarely got to see, except in those odd occasions when he ran into different versions of himself.

Fascinated at the idea the Doctor raised a hand and ran his fingers through his short greying hair. His mind raced through the possible different ways this trick could be accomplished. Maybe they used a hidden camera to project the image onto the mirror? The Doctor turned and gazed behind him at the blank wall. Pulling his sonic screwdriver out of a pocket he tapped it against his chin, smiling slightly. He was just about to point it at the mirror when a startled shriek echoed throughout the museum.

The Doctor spun about, senses alert to danger. 'Clara!' He'd know that voice anywhere.

Silence was the only answer.

'Clara, where are you?' the Doctor called out as he hurried towards the last place he'd left her. Finding the sculpture room empty he quickly scanned the spot where Clara was standing before moving back out into the T-junction. Looking to the left from where he had come from the Doctor considered his choices. He had glanced briefly into the rooms branching off from the corridor as he had passed them, seeing no flickering torch light from any of them so he was certain Clara hadn't been in those rooms. The Doctor turned to his right, unless Clara had decided to go back towards the Spirit Painters gallery she had to have gone that way. Fingers tightening on his sonic screwdriver the Doctor went in search of his friend.

He caught a glimpse of her, just standing there on the threshold of another room, arms braced on either side of the doorway as if she was about to push herself backwards before running away. The Doctor noted in frustration that she was blocking his view of whatever was inside. Slowing his approach the Doctor walked toward her. 'Clara,' he said quietly, 'what is it?'

Leaning against the wall next to her the Doctor looked more closely at Clara. Something had caught all of her attention to the point he wasn't even sure she realised he was standing next to her. Clara's breathing was ragged and hitched; her eyes were wide and staring at something in the room. The Doctor reached out and poked Clara in the side causing her to jump in surprise and squeak quietly.

Clara's eyes flicked sideways and stared at him. 'Doctor!' she whispered.

'What is it?' he whispered back.

Clara nodded towards the inside of the room and the Doctor slowly peered around the doorway, finally seeing what had frightened his friend.

In the darkened room he could just make out the distinctive silhouette of a Cyberman, standing against a wall and cordoned off by a small red rope. No wonder Clara was so afraid, memories of his past life, of Artie and Angie and a similar display on Hedgewick's World of Wonders sprang to mind. Webley and Porridge had thought that was just a dead Cyberman too, but they were wrong and the Emperor's forces had to blow up an entire planet to stop the Cybermen that time. Sonic screwdriver in hand the Doctor slowly reached out under Clara's right outstretched arm and examined the silver figure.

Sighing in relief he moved away from the wall. 'It's all right,' he said in a normal tone, 'it's a fake.'

'Sorry?' Clara risked a glance away from the Cyberman to stare at the Doctor.

'No Cyber tech,' the Doctor explained. 'Not real.'

Clara's arms dropped to her sides. 'Are you certain, because I'm pretty sure we've been in a similar situation before, remember?'

The Doctor's left eye twitched and he rubbed that side of his head, memories of his battle with the Cybercontroller floating to the surface of his mind. It hadn't just been Clara who had almost died that day. 'I remember.' He brushed past Clara and into the room, waving his sonic screwdriver at a small button on the wall to turn on the lights. 'Oh look,' he threw his hands up and looked back at Clara. 'It's obvious up close, see? It's a rubbish copy, someone's interpretation of a Cyberman.'

'A copy?' Curiosity winning over her fading fear Clara stooped down to pick up her fallen torch, turning it off. She was rather glad that the thick rubber casing hadn't broken since she would still need it to get back to the TARDIS.

'Yes, a fake.' The Doctor gestured towards the Cyberman's head as Clara walked towards him. 'The eyes are too far apart and the mouth is all wrong and look,' he pointed towards the rest of the Cyberman. 'Is it just me or did someone go and paint a wetsuit and gloves silver and hoped no one would notice?'

Clara gave a nervous laugh as she moved to stand next to the Doctor. 'Doesn't look very metal, does it?'

'Blow over in a stiff breeze that one, a complete hoax.' Never taking his eyes off the Cyberman the Doctor pointed off to his right. 'Unlike the Dalek over there.'

'What?!' Clara's gaze followed the Doctor's outstretched finger. Swallowing heavily she asked, hopefully. 'Are you sure?'

'Let's find out.' The Doctor grinned at Clara and hurried over to the Dalek.

'Well,' Clara approached more cautiously, keeping to one side and out of the Dalek's direct line of sight. 'Please tell me it's not suddenly going to come to life and kill us all?'

Crouching down slightly so he could peer directly into the eyestalk the Doctor pointed past the Dalek. 'Not without the operator installed.'

Moving closer so that she could see just what the Doctor was pointing at, Clara screwed up her face in disgust. Sitting next to the inert Dalek was a glass jar full of cloudy liquid. Inside the liquid floated some red squishy blob with tentacles. 'What is that?'

'That,' the Doctor looked up and studied the jar, 'is a Dalek. The organic component of one anyway, not many people literally come face to face with the most evil thing in the universe and live to talk about it and this is the second time I've done it this year.' He looked back and tapped the battered Dalek casing.

Clara reached out and placed a hand on the jar. 'So this is what Rusty looked like?'

'Hmm,' the Doctor ignored Clara's question as he walked about the Dalek. Suddenly he stopped, fiddled with the back and flipped the top of the casing up. 'They hollowed it out.' The Doctor's words echoing slightly as he peered into the Dalek. Hands propped on either side of the empty shell the Doctor looked over at Clara. 'It makes no sense, what is the point?'

'Dunno, maybe someone climbs inside it sometimes.'

The Doctor closed the Dalek up, frowning at the suggestion. 'Why would anyone want to do that?'

'Frighten the kiddies?' Clara shrugged, it was an alien museum full of alien things, sometimes it was better to just put the weirdness down to cultural differences and move on. Clara looked back at the Dalek in the jar, was it her imagination or had it moved? 'Now who's frightened?' she asked herself. Raising her voice Clara addressed the Doctor. 'It is dead, right?' Looking up she realised that the Doctor was already halfway down the room staring intently at another exhibit. 'Honestly, are you even listening to me?' she demanded. Clara watched as the Doctor lowered his chin and glared at whatever was inside an enclosed glass box. 'I asked you a question.' Clara said as she began moving towards him.

The Doctor suddenly seemed to realise she was walking towards him and he threw out one hand. 'Don't come any closer.' He demanded, never for a second taking his eyes away from the exhibit.

Clara stumbled to a halt. 'Excuse me?'

'Clara this is very important you need to get back to the TARDIS right now.'

'What are you talking about?' Curious about whatever it was that seemed to worry the Doctor so much Clara began walking towards him again. 'We've only just got here.'

'Why are you still moving forward?' the Doctor wanted to know. 'Go. TARDIS. Now. _Do as you are told!_ '

Clara hated it when the Doctor adopted that tone of voice. 'Not until you tell me what's going on.'

'This is not open to a debate!'

Clara folded her arms and adopted her best annoyed teacher voice. 'No it's not, so explain right now. What are you looking at?'

The Doctor sighed. 'It's a Weeping Angel.'

Clara frowned; she had seen so many things on her trips with the Doctor that she sometimes found it hard to remember them all. 'Doesn't really ring any bells, let me have a look.'

'No!' the Doctor shouted as Clara began walking towards him again. 'Stay back.'

'For goodness sake,' Clara said, exasperation clouding her voice, 'what's the fuss?'

The Doctor wanted to turn and glare at Clara's thick headedness. How could she have forgotten? 'Remember before I changed, Tasha Lem had just sent us down to Trenzalore. We had landed in the snow, don't you remember?'

Clara shivered a little. 'I remember it was freezing and then I saw an arm. I thought it was a person buried in the snow.'

'It was worse than that; it was the Weeping Angels.' The Doctor continued, always staring towards the glass box. 'Quantum locked life forms continually frozen in place as long as someone is looking at them,' he gestured from himself to the box. 'That's why I'm staring so hard at this one.'

'I remember you saying something like that; honestly I wasn't paying that much attention. The snow kept getting into my eyes and you seemed so scared.' Clara looked over at the Doctor. 'You were, weren't you, scared I mean?'

'You would be too, if you knew what they were capable of.'

'What can they do?'

Images of Amy and Rory flashed through the Doctor's mind. 'Get back to the TARDIS and you'll never find out.'

'This doesn't make any sense,' Clara shook her head, 'if they're so bad why keep one here on display?'

'Which part of it's the Museum of Curiosities and –'

'Yes,' Clara interrupted, 'but there is danger and then there is _danger_!' She suddenly had an idea. 'Wait a minute.' Ducking down low so she was out of his direct eye line Clara hurried in front of the Doctor.

'Clara!' the Doctor became worried when she disappeared from his peripheral vision. 'What are you doing?'

'It's alright,' she said from down near his right hand side. 'There's a sign here that hopefully should –'

'What, should what?'

'Explain everything.' There was a hint of relief and triumph in Clara's voice. 'Doctor look, it's okay.'

The Doctor gestured towards the Angel in its box. 'I can't look.'

Sighing Clara stood up and walked in front of the Doctor. 'I'm staring at it now, so go and look.'

The Doctor suppressed a growl of frustration. Now they were both in danger. 'One day I'm going to find someone who does as she's told.'

Clara laughed a little. 'You'd ditch them in a heartbeat, too boring for your tastes, now go and look.'

The Doctor blinked several times and when he saw that the Angel hadn't moved he finally looked over at the sign Clara had been reading. He frowned at the words. 'Two way mirror?' he whispered to himself before pointing his sonic screwdriver at the glass box. The readouts confirmed what the sign had said.

'Can I stop staring now?' Clara asked. 'Only I think my eyes are starting to dry out.'

The Doctor moved to stand next to Clara. 'Of course,' he told her. 'It's completely inert while it can see it's own reflection.'

Clara sighed as she closed her tired eyes. 'Clever of them,' she said, 'to surround it on all sides with mirrors.' She opened her eyes and looked over at the Doctor to see him frowning at the statue. She turned to look at it also. 'It's almost pretty in a way.' She observed looking at the winged statue of a young woman reaching out towards them.

'Pretty things can be deadly, too.' The Doctor replied. 'And deadly things can't he caged.'

Clara glanced sideways at the Doctor. 'You _can_ stop looking at it, you know.'

The Doctor took a few steps backwards, taking a deep breath he quickly glanced away from the glass box before looking back again. When he saw that the Weeping Angel hadn't moved even slightly he sighed and bent forward in relief.

Clara couldn't help herself, she started to laugh quietly. 'Look at you,' she said, 'you can stare a Dalek down like that.' She snapped her fingers. 'But the big, bad Time Lord was scared of a little statue.'

The Doctor stood upright and glared at Clara. 'Clara of the Pudding Brains,' he leant forwards and indicated with a nod of his head the Cyberman standing over by the entrance, 'at least my monster was real.'

Clara's laugh died and she cleared her throat in embarrassment. 'Well, um,' she held out one hand, 'let's never talk about this again, deal?'

The Doctor solemnly shook Clara's hand. 'Deal, now let's go.'

'Go where?'

The Doctor began walking towards the doorway. 'This is the Hall of Monsters, I half expected to find it in here. Let's try next door.'

Finally it sounded like the Doctor was going to tell Clara the reason they were here. 'And what's next door?'

The pair stopped outside the next room. The Doctor flicked his sonic screwdriver on and held it under his chin so the green glow lit up the lower half of his face. With a glance at Clara he lowered his voice and intoned gravely, 'The Hall of Legends.'

'Don't say it like that,' Clara scolded him, 'you sound creepy.'

'Oh, you're no fun.' The Doctor walked into the room, leaving Clara to flick on her torch and follow him.

'So what exactly is a Hall of Legends?' Clara asked as they walked through the room. She flicked her torch from side to side trying to see all the exhibits.

'Objects that cannot be or never were,' the Doctor explained. 'Myths and legends to some cultures.'

'Myths and legends?' Clara saw in passing a stone statue of a woman staring into a glass mirror with what looked like tentacles or snakes for hair.

'One culture's myth is another planet's monster.' The Doctor said.

Clara looked over at another exhibit that seemed to consist of an empty chair. As she moved past she thought she caught a glimpse of some greenish mist hovering over it, but she was unable to stop and look as the Doctor seemed intent on walking through the hall as fast as possible.

'And what are you looking for, a myth or monster?'

The Doctor stopped in front of a glass box. 'Both,' he answered.

'What –' Clara stopped and looked inside, 'Who is it?' she corrected herself as she realised there was a man standing in the box.

The Doctor indicated the small sign next to the exhibit. 'See for yourself.'

Clara bent down and shone her torch on the sign. Unlike the Weeping Angel's she was having trouble reading this one. 'Can you do that thing with the lights like you did in the other room?'

'Anything else,' the Doctor grumbled, as he used his sonic to turn on the lights, 'a back massage, perhaps?'

'Yeah that would be nice,' Clara replied, absently, as she stood back up. 'Strange, I still can't seem to read it.'

The Doctor looked from Clara to the sign and back again. 'Behave,' he growled as he rapped his knuckles twice against Clara's temple.

'Hey!' Clara jerked her head away from the Doctor. 'Why'd you do that for?'

'It's not you, it's the TARDIS. She won't translate.' He gestured towards the sign. 'Try again.'

Sighing and with a sideways glance at the Doctor, like she was expecting him to sudden smack her on the back of the head, Clara tried to read the sign again. 'It's no use –' she gasped as the words seemed to swim and rearrange themselves into English. Stepping backwards she looked at the Doctor.

'Well?'

'It says he's a time traveller,' she told him, not taking her eyes off of the Doctor for a minute. 'A Time Lord from Gallifrey.'


	3. Chapter 3

'Yes,' the Doctor stared intently at the man in the glass box. 'That's what I read, too.'

Clara turned to look at the man more closely. He seemed ordinary; in his mid thirties if she had to guess. Not that Time Lords ever looked their age, she knew that from experience. Hadn't she watched as the Doctor changed from baby faced geek to aging punk magician in only a moment's notice? 'Is he really?'

'Really what?'

'A Time Lord,' Clara reached out and placed a hand on the Doctor's arm. 'Doctor, could it be true?'

'Hall of Legends,' the Doctor shrugged off Clara's hand and used his screwdriver to examine the box.

'And?' Clara asked as he peered into the end of the sonic.

'He's a time traveller alright,' the Doctor said, 'Time Vortex particles are everywhere.'

'So he is a Time Lord.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'You're a time traveller, Clara; you're covered in the same particles. He could be anything.'

Clara frowned, 'But shouldn't you just know, you told me once you could always recognise another Time Lord.'

The Doctor nodded.

'So?' Clara demanded as the silence stretched out into minutes.

'I can't tell,' the Doctor gestured towards the man in the box. 'He's trapped in a time stasis field.'

Clara frowned. 'Why, would they do that?' she then thought of the Angel in the mirrored box. 'Is it because he's dangerous?'

'More likely because he's dying.' The Doctor replied. He grabbed Clara's torch, turning it on and shining it at the man's torso. Because the room was already lit it wasn't really necessary but it did point out the darker stain on the man's blue clothing. 'Shot, I'd say.'

Clara stepped forward and pressed her hands on the clear box. Turning her head she looked at the Doctor. 'So . . . stasis as in waiting for medical help?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'Stasis as in trapped in a moment in time forever.'

'But surely whoever found him would have taken him to a hospital or a doctor or _something_?' Clara turned to look at the man again. 'Why leave him like this?'

Behind her the Doctor shrugged. 'Perhaps he was so close to death they didn't have the time. After all this is an interactive museum, better an exhibit suspended in animation than a dead one.'

Clara stepped away from the glass to frown at the Doctor. Honestly sometimes he said the most insensitive things. 'Can he feel anything; does he know what's happened to him?'

The Doctor smiled gently. 'Clara, always caring,' he looked closely at the man, 'I don't know. In theory you are suspended in one single moment until the field is broken.'

'Cup a soup.' Clara whispered. 'You went into stasis before going into that painting, Doctor, remember?' she waited until he nodded, 'Did you feel anything at all?'

The Doctor shook his head, 'One minute I was in the TARDIS, the next it was the Black Archive. Mind you, there was _three_ of me there at the time, which can muddle things up a bit.'

Clara sighed, 'So in other words, you don't really know.'

'Well I wouldn't say,' the Doctor caught a glimpse of Clara's glare from the corner of his eye, 'something like that.'

'So this is the real reason we came here,' Clara indicated the man, 'not to show me an alien museum.'

'I can't do both?'

'Why didn't you just tell me why you chose _this_ place?'

'I wasn't sure,' The Doctor nodded towards the case, 'if he would be here or not.'

'How could you not be sure?' Clara reached out and laid a palm on the glass case. 'Something led you here.'

'It was only a rumour.' The Doctor reached up and ran a hand through his hair.

'But it's a museum; surely people would have read the sign and told others, that's how you found out about it, right?'

The Doctor turned away and gestured back towards the entrance to the room, 'It's not your average museum, Clara, and it doesn't cater to your average clientele.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning the only way to gain entrance to this particular museum is to have contributed an exhibit,' the Doctor looked back at Clara, his face grim. 'And I'm not talking about the paintings or sculptures,' he looked up at the time traveller. 'No, your donation to the cause must have once been alive and free.'

Clara shivered, 'Like bounty hunters, are you saying this museum is some kind of show and tell for bounty hunters? Look at me; I caught the biggest, baddest –'

'Exhibit,' the Doctor finished for her. He nodded at the traveller, 'they almost had me a couple of times.'

'So you heard a rumour that someone had captured a time traveller?'

'Yes.'

Clara looked from the traveller to the Doctor, 'And that it was a Time Lord?'

The Doctor began to slip his hands into his pockets before realising he was still holding his sonic screwdriver and abandoned the gesture. 'Yes.'

'So you came here, what, to rescue him?'

The pair was now standing side by side in front of the glass case.

'Maybe.'

Clara looked sideways at the Doctor, 'Maybe?'

The Doctor shrugged, 'Not all Time Lords should be rescued.' He huffed out a small laugh, 'Not many would bother to rescue me.'

'Nonsense,' Clara frowned at the thought, 'I'd always come and rescue you.'

The Doctor graced Clara with one of his more genuine smiles. 'You're just saying that because I'm your ride home.'

Clara laughed, 'Busted,' she turned serious again, 'but if you weren't here to rescue him then why are we here?'

'I have questions.'

'About?'

The Doctor began tapping his sonic screwdriver against his leg, 'Gallifrey.'

'Gallifrey?' Clara remembered another museum, months ago, how her other Doctor had bounced back into the TARDIS after his talk with the old Curator. He had seemed so enthusiastic, so full of life. He had been told that Gallifrey wasn't completely lost, that there was a chance to find it again.

'My home is out there, somewhere,' the Doctor pointed the screwdriver at the traveller, 'maybe he knows where.'

' _If_ he's a Time Lord.'

'Yes,' the Doctor stepped closer to the encased man, so close that his breath fogged the glass.

'And the only way to know for sure?'

The Doctor flicked his sonic screwdriver on and off quickly, 'Is to let him out.'

Clara bit her lip, 'But that will kill him.'

The Doctor nodded, 'Only if he's an ordinary traveller, if he's a Time Lord he might have enough time to regenerate.'

Clara reached out and grasped the Doctor by the arm. 'What do you mean _might_?'

The Doctor turned looking from her hand up to her face, he smiled slightly. 'Depends on the damage already done, he might be too far gone already.'

'So,' Clara drew the word out slowly as she let go of the Doctor's sleeve, 'what you're saying is; maybe he's a Time Lord who might point you in the direction of Gallifrey or maybe he's just an ordinary time traveller and all this might be a moot point anyway because he mightn't even survive the thawing out process. That pretty much sums it up?'

'Yup,' the Doctor nodded before frowning and turning to look at Clara. 'Who uses "moot" in a sentence?'

Clara shrugged, 'English teachers do.'

'Yeah, fair point and I'm not going to, as you so quaintly put it, "thaw him out",' the Doctor tapped the glass with his sonic screwdriver, 'I'm going to break the glass.'

'In case of emergency,' Clara whispered.

'Smash here,' the Doctor stepped back and brought up his screwdriver.

'Wait!' Clara stepped in front of him, 'hang on a minute.'

'Wait? Don't you think I've waited long enough?'

'I just want to make sure you're doing this for the right reason.' Clara clasped her hands together and took deep breath. 'I mean no matter what he knows or who he is,' she pointed to the man in the box, 'he's still a person. A traveller, like us, and no matter how far or long he's travelled someone must be missing him, right?'

The Doctor began tapping his screwdriver against his leg, irritably, 'What's your point?'

'It just occurred to me,' Clara took a deep breath, 'that could easily have been one of us in there. In all the time I've been travelling with you, I never wondered apart from my Nan and Dad, who would miss me if I suddenly disappeared?'

The Doctor stopped tapping, 'Well not me, because I'd have already found you.'

Clara smiled at the Doctor's words.

'And,' he continued, 'one or two of your smarter students might work something out eventually. When they realised you'd stopped handing out homework.'

Not to mention a certain maths teacher might work it out sooner rather than later. Clara fought to suppress a goofy smile.

'What is wrong with your face?' the Doctor asked.

'Nothing,' Clara cleared her throat and frowned, 'nothing at all. Stop trying to change the subject.'

'How can a change the subject when I don't even know what you're talking about?'

'Just promise me that no matter what you find out, if he' Clara hesitated for a moment, 'dies we find a way of getting him home.'

The Doctor sighed, heavily 'Fine,' he gestured at the display case, 'can I smash it now?'

Clara stepped well clear. 'Smash away.'

Smiling the Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the case and pressed the button. As the first cracks began to appear in the glass he turned back to look at Clara. 'Did I mention the alarm?'

'What al–?'

Clara felt her ears pop as the glass fractured into a million pieces and began to fall and the room around them turned an ugly shade of green, like the pallor you'd expect to see on Frankenstein's monster. She watched as the Doctor rushed forwards to grab at the traveller before he fell to the ground. For a minute she imagined the alarm was some sort of airlock opening and she could picture them all flying out into space. When nothing else happened, no sudden rush of air towards oblivion, she sighed in relief. That was when she frowned, sighing again Clara realised she couldn't hear anything. She tried to yell the word "Doctor" but nothing came out, it was like someone had turned off the volume.

Ignoring Clara behind him, the Doctor laid the traveller flat on the floor and moved to crouch next to his head. Taking the man's head in both hands he leant forwards and touched his forehead to the traveller's. The Doctor's whole body tensed for a moment, then he seemed to slump. Sitting back on his heels the Doctor dropped his hands between his knees. He stared at the traveller for a moment before rising to his feet and turning to look at Clara.

Who was standing behind him with a finger in one ear, opening and closing her mouth.

'What are you doing?' he asked her, knowing it was a waste of time as no one on the station could hear anything while the alarm was triggered.

Clara waved her hands about and gestured to the side of her head.

Sighing, the Doctor pointed to her, then back at himself, he mimed picking something up, then using two fingers made a walking motion.

Clara shrugged and mouthed 'What?'

Growling in frustration the Doctor stalked over to Clara grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards the traveller. Crouching down her pulled her down next to him and placed her hands on the traveller's ankles. Then he moved over to stand next to the man's shoulders. Placing his sonic screwdriver between his teeth and Doctor crouched down and tucked his hands under the traveller's armpits and looked over at Clara.

Catching her attention the Doctor raised his eyebrows and nodded at her hands. Clara tightened her grip and started to stand upright; the Doctor did the same. Slowly they began to shuffle towards the door, which had closed as soon as the alarm sounded.

On reaching the door Clara dropped the traveller's feet, leaving the Doctor to carry the full weight of the man. As he felt the deadweight of the traveller dragging him down the Doctor was forced to rather hurriedly lower the man to the floor. Glaring at Clara, after all this was her idea in the first place; the Doctor took his sonic from between his teeth and pointed it at the door. The only way he knew it was working was the glow from the end of the sonic, as the familiar hum was entirely absent.

There was a small rush of air against the Doctor's cheek as the door opened a crack. Tucking his sonic screwdriver away in his pocket the Doctor eased his fingers into the small gap and began to push. Seeing what her friend was doing, Clara hurried over to help. Between the two of them they managed to open the door wide enough to drag the traveller's body through.

After that the way seemed clear back to the TARDIS. Luckily the green glow seemed to light up the entire museum. This was a good thing as Clara, in her hurry to escape, had forgotten her torch. As the pair struggled to carry the dead man's body back to the TARDIS Clara kept expecting some form of security to rush them. After all they had just technically stolen an exhibit.

Every time the Doctor looked past Clara she was convinced the long arm of the law was about to clap its hand on her shoulder. Although since this seemed to be more of a bounty hunter collection than an official museum, maybe they were just waiting outside to catch them and put them all back into a glass box. Clara couldn't imagine anything worse than an eternity stuck in one place with snotty nosed kids peering back at her. Then again hadn't she just described her teaching job?

Clara sighed in relief when the TARDIS appeared out of the green gloom, those bounty hunters could wait all they want. She and the Doctor weren't leaving by the front door.

Seeing the tension ease from Clara's body the Doctor knew they were almost home. Sure enough another two steps backwards and he bumped into the solid shape of the TARDIS; her familiar, soothing hum vibrating against his back. Grinning widely the Doctor shifted the traveller's weight a little higher, moving his hands from the dead man's armpits and getting a firmer grip about his chest, before nodding towards Clara. She gently lowered the traveller's feet to the floor and reached inside her jacket pocket for her key.

Opening the door Clara hurried inside, leaving the Doctor with the Traveller.

'Anyone would think you're in some sort of hurry,' he muttered as he dragged the man into the TARDIS. The Doctor's words finally becoming audible as he crossed the threshold.

Clara stopped mid stride and turned around, 'What?' she clapped her hands over her ears for a moment before lowering them. 'I can hear,' she said, in a slightly loud voice, 'for a minute there I thought I might he permanently deaf.'

The Doctor lowered the traveller to the ground, the dead man's head bouncing slightly as it made contact with the floor. Striding over the console he flicked a switch and closed the TARDIS door. Circling to his left he entered a few coordinates and set the ship into flight.

'What are you doing?' Clara asked.

'Leaving the scene of the crime,' the Doctor replied, turning a wheel and flipping more switches. 'I thought that was obvious, unless,' he indicted the dead man lying on the floor. 'You want to stick around and answer a few awkward questions.'

'No,' Clara said, 'I mean, you can't just leave him there,' she gestured towards the traveller, 'it's disrespectful.'

The Doctor frowned, 'I think he's a bit beyond complaining, don't you?'

'Well we should at least cover him up with something.'

'Oh good idea,' the Doctor, using his "I'm talking to an idiot" voice walked about the console to stand on front of Clara, 'let's warm him up shall we? He's only dead, surely heating up the body won't do anything like, say, start the decaying process off. Capital idea, what could possibly go wrong?'

Clara crossed her arms and glared back at the Doctor. 'Sometimes I just don't understand you.'

The Doctor snorted, turning to face the console. 'Only sometimes? I must be losing my touch.' As the icy silence lengthened behind him the Doctor relented, 'Fine, be a civilian about it, there are some blankets in the third room on your left, after the swimming pool. But Clara,' he turned to address his friend, 'check his pockets for I.D. first.'

'What?' Clara's frown deepened at the thought.

'Identification,' the Doctor shook his head, 'unless you know of some other way to find out who he is?'

Clara backed up a few steps, 'I'm not touching him.'

'You were carrying him a minute ago,' the Doctor turned back to the console, 'just rifle through his pockets there's bound to be something useful in there. You lot can't go anywhere without some validation of who you are.'

The clattering of feet down the metal staircase was Clara's only answer. The Doctor turned abruptly to see he was alone with the corpse. 'Face down a Dalek but won't go through a dead man's trousers,' the Doctor muttered darkly, 'what are they teaching humans these days?'

Several minutes later Clara slowly walked back up the stairs with an armful of blankets. The Doctor was standing by the console looking busy. She quietly walked over to the traveller and knelt down next to him. Folding one blanket she gently placed it under his head then, standing up she opened another blanket and covered his body.

Clara cleared her throat and looked nervously over at the Doctor, she knew she had chickened out and ran away and a part of her wasn't sure why. Of all the dangerous things she had done and seen with the Doctor Clara couldn't quite work out why one dead man had affected her so much. Unless it was the knowledge that it could easily has been her laying there, just another time traveller caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. So much of the Doctor's adventures seemed to revolve around luck; it was easy to forget that one day it might run out.

'So do I assume he wasn't a Time Lord then?' she asked quietly.

'Bezoars' Galaxy,' the Doctor replied, 'small spiral galaxy, not very interesting, which is probably why I've never visited. Somewhere in one of its far flung arms is planet called Rupee's Lament. I despair of you lot's ability to name things.'

'You found some I.D then,' Clara walked over to stand near the Doctor. 'What was it, passport, Intergalactic Express card, time traveller's license?'

The Doctor waved at a small oval piece of plastic propped up against a few levers. 'Library card.'

'Library card?' Clara scoffed as she picked it up, 'seriously?'

'Yes,' the Doctor turned and scowled at Clara, 'a library card, the only passport any intelligent mind needs. The passport to infinite knowledge and you call yourself a teacher?'

'All right,' Clara fought back an impulse to smack the Doctor, 'I apologise for not checking his pockets okay?' she picked up the card and tried to read the name. 'Rennick Brz-cra-thwck . . . can I buy a vowel please?' she tapped the card against her hand. 'With a name like that it shouldn't be too hard to find his family.'

'Unless it's the equivalent of Smith is back on Earth,' the Doctor suggested with a slightly wicked glint in his eye.

'Don't even think it,' Clara reprimanded him. 'So we have a who and a where, just leaves us with a when.'

The Doctor leant over and turned the card in Clara's hand. Printed on the back was a series of characters.

Clara could make out what looked like a spiky piece of fruit, some sort of bear-like animal and several mathematical symbols. 'Is this supposed to mean something?'

'Looks like an expiry date,' the Doctor replied,

'What like "valid until March 2020" sort of thing?'

'Exactly like that,' the Doctor nodded, 'which gives us a time line to work with. We'll go to that date and work our way back from there.'

'How?'

'Check the news, read their version of a newspaper. Look for a local hero gone missing. That sort of thing.'

'And then what?'

The Doctor looked over at Clara, 'Hand him back and offer our condolences, isn't that what you lot do?' he watched as Clara glanced over at Rennick, her eyes skittering over his dead body before looking back at the Doctor. 'Or we could just dump him on the doorstep, ring the bell and run away. It was your idea, remember?'

'No!' Clara shook her head, emphatically. 'No, we do this the right way. No one should ever be lost.'

The Doctor looked down at his hands, 'No,' he agreed, 'no one deserves to be lost. Not why I'm around.' Plucking the card from Clara's hand the Doctor strode around the console with purpose. 'You've waited long enough,' he told Rennick, 'time to take you home.'


End file.
